bullyfanonfandomcom-20200214-history
User blog:MichaelDiaz101/Teenage Angst Chapter 2: That Was Painful
A few stitches, put into that of Gregory's lip, and forehead were placed and he was released. Only his first day, given his first hour here and he already succumbed to the macho man's forceful intent. Luckily his friendly-not-so-much-friends had illustriously came to his aid when he was in dire need of it. Although he never really liked the Greasy's, they did hold him in aspired regards, his only friend amongst the group was Norton. The two were childhood friends, even before Norton became an aficionado in macho behavior. He was still 'soft' as he put it, with Greg he was more charitable given the notion that he didn't need to put on an act. Sitting on the cobblestone bench outside the Nurses office, nurses his scars that he achieved from his day one affair Norton sat down next to him. "How's that lip man." Norton had asked. ''Well it hurts. '' "They're nice, want to grant me a kiss?" Greg beamed. They both broke into faint laughter. Of course Gregory was completely distressed, and he made no effort to even secrete it beyond a reasonable doubt. Still even though it was on the forefront Norton didn't seem to notice, or just didn't care. "That's funny, man." Norton said with a wide smile. They sat their silently enjoying this prime weather they had, Greg even began to take notes of the nice weather that they had been subjected too recently. Even by early September the weather goes to hell pretty quick in Bullworth. After a time of decreed silence Norton finally perked up. "Hey, man, 'fore class kicks off want to go hangout with the guys?" ''Not really, oh please, no. ''"Sure." Greg had agreed, despite his efforts not too. Norton, like a puppy clamoring for his treat, rushed from his seat and to the interior of the main building with Greg reluctantly in tow. Upon entering the main building boundful glares fell on him from the passing students. Giving him an uneasy feeling as he did so, they had stared and spoke inchorent words to one another silently. Possibly about him. Greg hated that about people, they had developed pleasantries to one's face, but scythe one in the back once turned to them. Entering the cafeteria he was standing before the different factions of the school, all conforming to their effort. ''Conformity on all levels just shows where the sheep are, ''those words repeated in his mind, once said by Dead Kennedys frontman Jello Biafra. There were the Athletes. macho monkeys who would hardly even bat an eye at him. Their immense superiority over everything, and treatment of women (because they could) was just outright disgusting. They would hail these lands as theirs. Then, came the rich aristocrats, wearing their furbished aquaberry, and perfectly lined slacks they had an attitude of fallacy, Greg was glad he didn't find himself in that social circle, he'd probably off himself. Then came the group he'd most wish to ascociate with, Nerds. Though they were imposed by the other factions they stood out, and made no effort to even do so. Then, there were the Greasers. With the leader, Johnny Vincent. As far as Johnny was concerned Greg had previously tried to get with Lola. So much in a sense that he nearly beat Greg prematurely into a hospital bed. Greg had no interest in Lola at all, and despite her provocative influence he wasn't aroused by her. Johnny didn't view it that way, and for him it was only his misconstrued view that mattered. As Greg shifted towards the Greaser table Johnny just paid him no mind, he knew he was there, he just didn't care. ''Yeah, you're so big and bad. ''Greg thought to himself. Vance, and Ricky had taken a note of Greg and went over to shoot the shit. "Greggy!" Ricky exclaimed. As he did so Ricky had jumped and given Greg a 'bro-hug' of sorts. Though Greg revolted against it. Vance greeted him as well, slicking his hair back with one hand and gripping Greg's hand uncomfortably firm in the other. The Greasers always liked Greg for some reason, maybe it was because he lived in the same neighborhood and was 'different' as one could put it, but Greg never really liked them. Johnny continued to dismiss him. "Hey, Johnny. Maybe you should check the boys' locker room for Lola." Greg quipped. This caught his attention as Johnny swiftly rushed and gripped the collar of Greg's shirt. "What'd you say you little shit?" Johnny spoke coldly. "Hey, man I'm just getting you worked up." Greg remarked. Finally, after feeling the ice of Johnny's cold stare he removed his grip and Greg was forced to reajusted his shirt. Greg never really had anything against Lola, he just loved to get Johnny like that. The rest of the clique didn't mind him but Johnny just had sheer discontempt for him. Finally the class bell rang, dismissing the students for their assigned classes. Greg's class for Monday was music, for which he would most certainly enjoy. Upon arriving there he took his seat amongst the class. He would been playing the drum, an instrument he surely enjoyed, and his work with it would leave the teacher impressed. Greg was always an excellent musician, and had talent with any instrument he could utilize. He was afraid to sing, he did during the Christmas holiday and his mother always remarked on how well composed he was. But she was probably just constructing a ruse to further please him. Miss Peters, the eccentric music teacher had approached him after his session on the drums. "Well done, Greg." She congratulated. "You certainly have a future as a drummer, you hit those with such speed and velocity, do you have any inspirations?" She asked, curious. "Uhm, Dave Grohl, Jack Irons, Matt Cameron." He said upfront. She nodded, and acknowledged his response. "Yes, the greats of Grunge. You look like one who would be associated as such." She further studied him. "You have fire in your veins, almost identical to that found in Kurt Cobain, or Layne Staley. Such power." She offered, as if a medium studying his inner dwellings. "Thank you," he countered, unnervingly licking his lips and cocking his neck, "but they are excellent, and I'm nothing." "Apathy is what led them on with their art, and it shall do so the same for you as well." She simply replied. Greg knew he had talent, it was assured silent confidence that he had with himself, but to be compared to them was... Not something he'd wished for. Finally the class bell had rang and the students dispersed into the now crowded hallway. Greg had made a path for the lunchroom yet again. At this point Greg had found himself at a table, alone, he did not wish to mingle with the macho Greasers that he found himself among earlier, plus, he much prefered his solitude. At this time he was at the mercy of his thoughts, as he sat there peddling with his food, which by chance looked like it wasn't a course that you would serve to the average human being. His eyes surveying the lack of any food etiquette used in this form of food. By this time a student approached the table that Greg had claimed for himself, Greg did not even give him a glance before making a brash statement. "May I help you?" He said, with sarcastic enthusiasm. "I was just looking for somewhere I could sit, everyone else kicked me out." The stranger told him. Greg took his blank gaze from his food and looked over the stranger. He was slightly overweight, though of good quality and demeanor. He had very friendly eyes, and did not look capable of judgement, or obligatory critiquing. "Take a seat." Greg said, invitingly. With much esteem he took his seat, opposite of Greg, who was still studying him. Though he seemed to be oblivious to Greg's studiously prying eyes. ''New kids don't make allies? ''He thought to himself. It was a well established rule, he once attended many schools outside that of Bullworth, even Liberty City when his mother had moved in with one of her unwitting ex-husbands, and his unnerving stepfathers. "What's your name?" Greg asked, with a serious face. "I am Melvin Aldridge." The tone in which Melvin spoke in allowed Greg to relax his posture and even go about a more loose nature. He was no longer uptight, and well concealed, he was allowing himself to be more forward with Melvin. Who never wavered in judgement. "So you're new?" He asked, Greg nodded silently. "Oh, I am too!" He replied with excitement. For once since his unveiling here at this very alien school he felt himself go at ease, his breathing took on a more functional repetition, and relaxation swept over him as an overwhelming sense of security had formulated within him. "Oh, so have you met anyone else, like us?" Greg inquired, with the raise of a brow. "How do you determine someone who's like us?" Melvin returned. "Those with the esteemed failure to fit a hierarchy." Greg responded in full, taking a gulp from the milk carton. "I did meet some other outcasts, but they were smoking weed." Melvin stated, ominously. As if he were reluctant, and even guilty, to reveal this fact. "They just told me not to tell anyone." He revealed. "It's alright!" Greg exclaimed, sincerely. "I won't tell a soul." He insured, which seemed to imrpove Melvin's optimism and erode away any gathered feelings of worry, or misguided fear. "Why don't we go meet them, where do they usually gather?" Greg asked, intently. He hadn't smoked in the previous days, as a lack of any currency failed to give him any resources to gain weed. "Oh, yeah." Again Melvin was reluctant, and uncertain. "Sure, follow me!" He rose slowly from his seat and lead the way with Greg in correspondance. Category:Blog posts